


Let's Start the New Year Right

by slightlytookish



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, New York City, Nightmares, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-24 09:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/pseuds/slightlytookish
Summary: Nix had always been able to pick Dick out of a crowd, even when he was lying on his belly in the dirt two hundred yards away, squinting through binoculars at an entire company of men wearing identical uniforms. It was easier to spot him in the crush of people inside Penn Station, even out of the familiar uniform: the same tall figure, the same bright hair, the same way he always seemed to find Nix just as easily and turn towards him, like an arrow on a compass.





	Let's Start the New Year Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kunstvogel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunstvogel/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, kunstvogel! Thank you for organizing this exchange. I hope you like this!
> 
> The title is from the 1942 song of the same name.

Christmas in New Jersey had a few things going for it that Nix had never appreciated before. A roof over his head for one thing, and heating in general, and a distinct lack of artillery crashing all around him. It was missing a certain Dick Winters though, and for the better part of the day Nix walked past the telephone more times than he ever would have cared to admit before he finally gave in and picked up the receiver. 

It wasn't until he was waiting for the call to connect that he wondered if it was too late to bother Dick. Nix wasn't entirely sure what Christmas Day in Lancaster was like, but whenever he tried to picture it he imagined hours spent in church followed by a big family dinner capped off with an evening of singing carols by the fire; in other words, everything a Nixon Christmas was not. He figured it was still early enough in the evening to call, but he hoped he wouldn't be the one who ruined Christmas by waking up Ma and Pa Winters.

But then Dick was answering the phone and Nix couldn't spare a thought for anything or anyone else. "Hey, Dick. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Lew." 

Dick's voice sounded far away, but Nix could still hear the warmth of his smile in it and this, _this_ , was what he'd waited to hear all day. The only reason he hadn't called earlier was because he felt Dick deserved a good holiday, a happy first Christmas back with his family after all those years away, wishing he could be home. Nix knew he wasn't the best of company on a good day, and spending Christmas at his father's house always tended to sour his mood. Even if none of his family were around to ruin the holiday personally, this year. 

But he wasn't about to lay all that at Dick's feet now – not when he hadn't even seen Dick since Nix had shipped home back in September. Dick had only been stateside for about a month now, and he'd gone straight home to Pennsylvania and his family. Dick had written him letters and Nix had even managed to write one in return, and there had been a couple of phone calls, and the job offer in Nixon was still on the table – right where Nix had left it months ago, though neither of them had brought it up again since that day at the lake. On the whole, Nix thought this was exactly how things should be. Dick wanted peace and a quiet life, Dick wanted to be with his family, and Nix wasn't about to interfere with that, no matter how much he wanted Dick at his side.

Nix lit a cigarette and settled down on the floor with his back to the wall and the phone in his lap. "So how's Christmas in Lancaster? Did you gather all the sheep and stage one of those nativity things?"

"You know I don't actually live on a farm, right, Nix?" Dick said, and Nix could still hear the smile in his voice. "It's been nice. Pretty quiet. We went to church, visited some family, opened a couple of presents. Ann got her own record player, so she's over the moon." 

"Sounds like a nice time."

"Yeah. How about you?"

"Oh, you know." Nix hadn't gone to church and hadn't opened any presents, but he had opened a can of soup and heated it for dinner. He'd briefly considered driving into the city but it hadn't seemed worth the effort when everything would be closed, and there was no one there he wanted to see anyway. "Beats last Christmas." There were no exploding trees, so that was a definite improvement. 

"Yeah," Dick said slowly, like he wanted to say more and was considering his words. And his Christmas had sounded nice, but it also sounded like something was off – there was something in Dick's voice, or in between the words. Or maybe in the words he wasn't saying. Nix wasn't sure, but he also knew better than to press. If Dick wanted to tell him, he would, and if he didn't, well. Dick Winters could be as stubborn as hell when he wanted to be. 

Still, it didn't hurt to wait. Nix was good at waiting when he needed to; it was what had made him a good intelligence officer, and anyway, he'd always wait for Dick. He smoked in silence, not caring about the long-distance fees that were surely piling up. That was what Dick usually fretted about, and his family's party line that he was always so careful not to tie up for longer than the five minutes encouraged by the telephone company. The fact that Dick had mentioned neither was enough of an indication that something was wrong.

"Truth is," Dick said at last, his voice soft like he was afraid that his sister would stop listening to her records and overhear, or that maybe his parents would. Nix wasn't sure how likely either was, but then again, Dick was the one surrounded by family, not sitting on the floor in the foyer of a big, empty house. "Christmas wasn't what I expected. Being home isn't what I expected."

"What did you expect?" Nix asked, genuinely curious. He'd given up expecting anything from his family a long time ago and they had not given him any reason to change his mind ever since, but he knew that Dick's family was very different. Most people's families were different.

"I don't know," Dick said, and Nix could hear the growing tension in his voice. It was the sort of bottled-up frustration that he hadn't heard since Colonel Sink first took Easy from Dick and set him up behind a desk. "But it wasn't this. And I think they expected something else from me too. Or maybe someone else."

Nix found that impossible to believe, because why would anyone in their right mind want someone else if they could have Dick? But he couldn't exactly say that without having to explain a whole lot more, so instead he took one last drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out on his father's marble floor. "Want to go to Chicago?"

Even over the poor connection Nix could hear the way Dick's breath caught. "What? Now?"

The reluctance he could hear in those two words ought to have made Nix pause, but he barreled on, because that was what he did best. "Well, not tonight. How about later this week? You know, I never meant to take you there in the winter, but a little cold weather hasn't killed us yet. We could head over there for New Year's-"

"No," he said, sharp enough that Nix flinched, and was glad Dick wasn't there to see it. "Not Chicago."

"Okay." Nix swallowed heavily, wishing he hadn't gotten rid of his cigarette so soon. More than that, he wished he hadn't left his drink in the dining room. "All right. No Chicago."

"Okay," Dick replied, and there was a finality to his tone that Nix didn't like at all. But then he cleared his throat and said, "Actually, I was thinking about New York earlier."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Must be nice there, around this time of year."

Nix wasn't sure where Dick was going with this. "It is," he said cautiously. 

There was a pause, and then Dick said, "I was wondering if you'd mind some company?"

Nix's heart had stuttered, but now it was pounding as if he'd just run Currahee. He hadn't felt this alive since he'd left Europe. Hell, he didn't know the last time he'd felt this _awake_. It was probably around the last time he'd seen Dick. "Sure, you can stop by whenever you want. I mean, if you visit anytime soon you'll still end up freezing your ass off, but if you don't mind…"

"Would tomorrow be too soon?" Dick asked in a rush. "I don't know if you're busy but I, uh, was looking at the train timetables earlier. There's one at seven that I could catch. And one at 10:30, if the other's too early."

Nix let his head fall back against the wall. "My schedule's clear tomorrow. Just let me know what time to meet you at the station," he said, and tried – and failed – not to grin up at the ceiling. 

* * *

Nix had always been able to pick Dick out of a crowd, even when he was lying on his belly in the dirt two hundred yards away, squinting through binoculars at an entire company of men wearing identical uniforms. It was easier to spot him in the crush of people inside Penn Station, even out of the familiar uniform: the same tall figure, the same bright hair, the same way he always seemed to find Nix just as easily and turn towards him, like an arrow on a compass. 

Dick's handshake was the same too, and Nix wasn't sure what he'd expected to change during the months they'd been apart, but the familiarity put him at ease. 

"Your hand is like ice," he said, and even that felt familiar. It felt like Bastogne. "Wasn't there any heat on that train?"

"Good to see you too, Nix," he said, looking amused. "The train was fine."

"Sure it was." Not that Dick would have complained, even if they'd sat him in a refrigerated train car. He probably would enjoy being closer to the milk and ice cream. "You know, that's what you get for taking the first train out. It probably doesn't warm up until it's gone back and forth a couple times. Where are your gloves?"

"Forgot them at home," Dick admitted, ducking his head a little. "I packed in a hurry."

Dick had said once that he didn't like retreating, and Nix wasn't going to be the one to mention just how much this felt like a retreat. He just wished he had some gloves to give Dick right now, but he tended not to bother with them, himself. They only got in the way of cigarettes and flasks, and pockets usually were enough to keep his hands warm, at least outside of the Bois Jacques. Not so with Dick, who always ran cold.

"I'll get you a pair," he said, making a grab for Dick's suitcase and waving off his protests. "Consider it a late Christmas present."

"No, Lew-"

"An early birthday present, then. Come on, Macy's is only a few blocks away, let's see if they're open. We'll have breakfast after."

"Breakfast? It'll be closer to lunchtime by then."

"Maybe for you," Nix said, knocking Dick's shoulder with his own. "I think I sleepwalked here. Some lanky redhead insisted on meeting at the crack of dawn. You know how they can get."

Dick gave him a look like he knew Nix was full of it, but he also gave Nix's shoulder an answering bump of its own as he fell into step beside him. As they picked their way through the crowd, Nix's feet felt lighter than they had when he'd walked down the gangplank from the troopship and found himself a civilian again. It had to be the company he was keeping, Nix decided, and he didn't bother to hide his grin as they headed up the stairs and into the sunlight, together.

* * *

"I figured we'd stay at my mother's place," he said later as he ushered Dick into the apartment. It was lavish in a way he'd never noticed until he became friends with Dick but compared to his father's _pied-à-terre_ across town, it was practically spartan. Nix figured that one look at the ostentatious display of wealth in his father's apartment would have sent Dick hurrying back to Pennsylvania on the next train, so off to Mother's they went, even if it was smaller and lacked the grand piano and gold trim on everything, neither of which Dick would miss. "You can see the park from the windows. Thought you'd appreciate that."

But Dick was studying the artwork on the walls as if he'd just walked into a museum. He stopped before one painting and tilted his head to one side and then the other, considering it with a furrowed brow. It was one of the modern pieces Blanche had brought home; the other had ended up at the house in California. Nix was fairly certain that this one had been hung upside down, but he'd never cared enough to mention it. "Your parents keep separate apartments?" 

"They did even before the divorce. Yeah," he said, catching Dick's look. "Came home to that news."

"I'm sorry," Dick said, sounding uncertain. Nix waved him off. 

"Only surprise was that it hadn't happened years before. Anyway, Mother shipped out to San Francisco for the winter, so we have this place to ourselves."

"What about your father?"

"Oh, he's in Palm Beach, licking his wounds and probably well on his way to finding wife number two. You're looking at the only Nixon in town."

Dick was staring at him, and Nix wished he'd go back to looking at the paintings instead. He'd never been able to stand Dick looking at him with anything approaching concern, as he was now. 

"They left you alone on Christmas?"

He almost laughed at the surprise in Dick's voice. "It's not the first time. Anyway, I was invited. I just didn't want to go to California. Or Florida." He tried to remember where his sister had gone. To California with their mother, he thought, but he couldn't be sure. It felt like something he should have known.

"Lew. You should have said something."

"And what? You'd have invited me to Lancaster? It was your first Christmas home, Dick, you really think your parents would've wanted me to come along for the ride?"

"They wouldn't have minded," he said, and the thing was, from everything Nix had heard about Dick's family, that was probably true. Hell, Mrs. Winters probably would have baked him an apple pie or something.

_Maybe next year_ , he wanted to say, but it felt too much like tempting fate. Nix couldn't help wondering if Dick will have shaken him off by next December. Most days he couldn't believe it hadn't already happened. What little they'd ever had in common began and ended with the army, and those days were behind them now. He figured it was only a matter of time before Dick put Nix behind him, too.

He fumbled his flask out of his pocket and offered it to Dick first, for old times' sake. When Dick shook his head Nix took a gulp and drifted over to the window. It had snowed earlier in the week, and the cold temperatures in the following days hadn't allowed much of it to melt. The streets were lined with dirty slush, but the snow in the park was unblemished, broken only by the paths weaving through it. 

"Is that Central Park?"

Nix wasn't sure when Dick had come to stand beside him, and he didn't care much for the little cautious glances he could see Dick throwing him out of the corner of his eye. They reminded him too much of the way Dick had looked at him back in Germany, during the one-two-three punch of Operation Varsity and the demotion and his own divorce, and Nix didn't want to waste a single moment he had with Dick chasing down those particular memories. He'd have plenty of time to do that when he was on his own again. He put the flask away.

"The one and only. Want the grand tour? There's a spot called Sheep Meadow that'll probably make you feel right at home."

"Never even owned a sheep, Nix," Dick said, but he glanced over with a half-smile as he pulled on his new gloves – gray and practical and warm enough that Nix didn't have to worry about his hands freezing anymore – and he wasn't looking at Nix like he'd break as they headed out the door, so Nix counted that as a win.

He felt even better once they were outdoors and away from any reminder of his family. This was familiar ground, even if their path was new. How many hours had he and Dick spent walking the line together? Only now, their steps were unhurried as they wound their way through the park. Nix struggled to remember when they'd last spent time together without having to rush somewhere, without the hours on a weekend pass ticking down in the backs of their minds or without responsibilities hanging over them. Even when the war was winding down there had been reports to write, briefings to attend, men to keep safe when too much alcohol and free time made that a difficult task. It was a novelty to spend an afternoon however they wanted, without having to consider anyone else's wishes but their own.

"There really were sheep here once," he said as they approached the field. "I used to come here and watch them as a kid."

Dick peered around intently, frowning as if he were planning a tactical maneuver, or perhaps just trying to picture a flock of sheep grazing against the backdrop of the buildings that crept close to the edges of the park. "You spent a lot of time here growing up?"

"Sure, before my parents shipped me off to school. I used to go to the lake and race model yachts." He started to point out its general direction but faltered when Dick turned to him with a quirk of an eyebrow and an expression that could only be described as fond.

"Model yachts? Really?"

Usually Nix hated any reminder that his upbringing really did tick every box of the archetypal little rich boy, but he didn't mind it so much if it brought that kind of smile to Dick's face. "I'll have you know I won a medal for it one year."

"How old were you?"

"Seven," he said, and somehow, Dick's smile grew even warmer.

"Well, now I want to see this lake."

"All right." Nix allowed himself the indulgence of resting his hand on Dick's shoulder, just long enough to guide him onto the correct walking path. His hand tingled at the contact, and he shoved it in his pocket. "But don't get any ideas about jumping in. I know how lakes drive you wild." 

"I'll try to control myself," Dick said dryly, but the look he gave Nix was still unaccountably fond.

Over lunch Nix had done a little light intelligence gathering and managed to pry from Dick a list of things he'd like to see and do in New York. He'd mentioned visiting a museum or two, finding some nice postcards to send home to his sister, seeing the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, maybe taking in a Broadway show. Nix resolved to bring him to all those places and more, but something told him that when he looked back on Dick's visit, this chilly afternoon spent strolling through the park would be the one he remembered best.

* * *

The dream always began the same way, with Nix standing by the door of the plane. The jumpmaster, waiting for the green light, the rest of the guys in his stick nothing more than shadows in the background whose faces he didn't know, and wouldn't remember after. He'd feel the wind on his face as he waited, contemplate lighting a cigarette, and look back just in time to see those shadows shift. The men would come into focus, every single one of them wearing Dick's face. Then the plane would be hit, and that was when the dream would change.

Sometimes Nix made it out, just like he really had, only this time when he looked back, no one managed to jump out behind him. Or sometimes Dick made it out too, right on his heels, only to be immediately shot down before his parachute even had a chance to open. Or sometimes Nix was still in the plane when it began to crack apart, and he'd yell at Dick to _jump, damn it, jump_ before he tumbled out of the open door and got to watch the plane blow up with Dick still inside. Nix had to hand it to his brain for showing him so many new and interesting ways that Dick could die.

Tonight, he had a front row seat to yet another a new one. The plane took a hit and he jumped, only he jumped wrong somehow and got tangled in his chute. It spun him around so that he was looking up at the sky, at Dick watching him from the doorway of the plane. He shouted at Dick to jump but it was too late; the plane blew up like it always did, and Nix could feel the silk twisting tighter and tighter around him as he fell, thrashing, until he hit the ground and went still.

And then Dick was there and that wasn't just new, it was _wrong_. He'd just watched Dick blow up in the sky. But that was definitely Dick's voice calling his name, and he could feel a hand shaking his shoulder and another cradling his head, and then Nix was awake. Shuddering, panting for breath, and staring up at a worried, freckled face.

"Dick?" 

"You're all right, Lew. You're all right." 

It sounded like Dick was trying to convince himself. Nix tried to sit up but fell back hard onto a knobby knee digging into his spine; he was lying on the floor, half on Dick's lap, the sheets tangled around him, pinning his left arm. "Christ. Sorry, Dick."

His voice was rough like he'd been shouting ( _because you were_ , his brain helpfully reminded him) and the sound seemed to spur Dick into action.

"Here," he said, freeing Nix from the sheets and hauling him up to sit against the bed. "Wait here, Nix, okay? Just stay here. I'll be right back."

Nix thought he nodded but couldn't be sure; either way, Dick didn't wait around for an answer, and Nix tried to concentrate on catching his breath until Dick returned with a glass of water. He would have preferred something stronger, but Dick probably had the right idea, so he downed the glass as Dick settled down beside him. Hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder; it was almost like sitting in a foxhole, only no foxhole of theirs ever had a thick rug beneath their legs or a warm blanket like the one Dick was untangling from the mess of sheets on the floor to drape over them.

"Sorry." His voice still sounded like he was talking around gravel. He cleared his throat, but it didn't help. "Dick, I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Dick said. He slapped Nix twice on the knee, a quick, bracing sort of gesture that for some reason made Nix want to cry.

He stared hard at the weave of the blanket until he thought he could speak again without embarrassing himself. "Keep having this dream about Varsity."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Never used to remember my dreams, you know. Wish I could forget this one. The weird thing is, you're there too."

They were pressed so close together he could feel it when Dick exhaled, the weight of it like a sigh. "I figured. You were shouting my name."

"You're there and there's nothing I can do to save you." Nix closed his eyes and tried to stop shaking. "You always end up dying just like those boys in the plane. Every single time."

Dick didn't say anything, and Nix didn't expect him to. What would a person even say to that? But after a moment there was a rustle of fabric as Dick shifted and slipped his arm around Nix's shoulders, pulling him close. Even when they were freezing in Bastogne they hadn't held each other like that, so Nix figured he must look pretty terrible to prompt this kind of reaction from Dick now. Then he decided he wasn't going to waste time wondering about it, not when he could be resting his head against Dick's shoulder, the flannel of his pajamas soft against his cheek.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "You didn't come all the way to New York to deal with this." He gestured half-heartedly around the room, at himself. Dick's legs were sticking out from under the blanket, crossed at the ankle, and Nix's eyes caught on his socks. They were navy blue with gray heels and toes, likely knitted by his mother or sister, or perhaps a favorite aunt. Pennsylvania was probably looking pretty good right about now. At least in Lancaster Dick didn't have his old war buddy screaming his head off and falling out of bed and generally making a nuisance of himself in the middle of the night. He wondered how much time he had before Dick realized that and caught the next train out.

Dick squeezed his shoulder briefly; whether he meant it as reassurance, or not, Nix couldn't tell, but it managed to put a stopper on that particularly depressing line of thought, at least for the moment. 

"Did you keep any of those boats?"

It took Nix longer than it should have to realize that Dick was continuing their conversation from the park. A clunky way of distracting him, but Nix would take it. Anything to keep from wondering how long it would take Dick to come to his senses and decide that Nix wasn't worth the trouble.

"I think a couple of them are at the house in New Jersey," he said. He hadn't gone looking for them in years, but the more he thought about it the more he remembered seeing them there, tucked away alongside old yearbooks and trophies. "I'll show you them sometime. Could probably still sail them."

Dick hummed, maybe not in agreement, but at least in acknowledgement. Nix considered asking when Dick might be joining him in New Jersey, if ever, then thought better of it. It really wasn't the right time, and he wasn't sure what he'd do if the answer was no. 

"Had a dream like that my first night home," Dick said quietly. "Scared the heck out of my sister, that time."

There had been other times, was what Nix heard. He wasn't sure why it surprised him to know that Dick had nightmares too. Maybe he'd thought that Dick was above that, somehow, that the bad dreams were just part of a long list of Nix's many faults, or maybe some kind of punishment for every single one of those faults and vices. 

"Home was all I thought about sometimes, especially towards the end, after you and Harry shipped out," Dick went on. "I just wanted to get out of there and leave everything behind. Get back to my life. I guess I never figured so much of it would follow me home."

Nix shifted enough so that he could slide his arm around Dick's waist and hold on tight, as if that would make it better. He knew it wouldn't, but it gave him something to do. "That why you wanted to come to New York?"

"So my family could have a decent night's sleep?" Dick's huff of a laugh ruffled Nix's hair and made him shiver, just a bit. "Maybe a little. But it was more that I was tired of them looking at me like I might crack up if they said the wrong thing, or expecting something from me that I couldn't give. Expecting me to be someone I'm not. I just… didn't want to see them watching me as if they didn't know me anymore."

Nix nodded even though he couldn't relate. He didn't think his family looked at him any differently now than they ever had, and he wondered if that was because they didn't see a change in him, or if they didn't believe him capable of change. He didn't talk about the war and they didn't ask, and most days, he was happy to leave it at that. It was only on his worst days that he wondered if they thought he'd been with the MPs in California the whole time. 

"Also wanted to see you, for some reason," Dick said, pulling him out of his thoughts. He'd always been good at that, even though he probably didn't realize he was doing it, half of the time. He held Nix a little tighter, and Nix didn't know if Dick realized he was doing that, either. "There's no one like you back home, Nix."

"That's me," Nix said, grinning. "One of a kind."

"Thank goodness for that," Dick said, and Nix could tell that he was smiling too. 

Neither one of them said anything for so long afterwards that Nix eventually lifted his head to see if Dick had fallen asleep on him. He hadn't, but he looked like he might doze off at any moment right there on the floor, propped up between Nix and the bed.

"Bedtime for you," Nix said, pulling away reluctantly. "Gotta rest up for – what's the plan for tomorrow?"

Dick rubbed at his eyes and got to his feet. "I was thinking about going to the museum in the morning. That art one we talked about."

"The Met? Christ," Nix grumbled, though he let Dick give him a hand up. He still felt as shaky as a newborn kitten, and about as jumpy too. "And in the morning? Those paintings are hundreds of years old, Dick. They'll still be there in the afternoon."

"You don't have to come with me," Dick said, a smile playing around his mouth as he remade the bed with the same swift efficiency that Nix had tried to emulate back in Toccoa, with minimal success. Even now, half-asleep, Dick was doing a neater job than Nix had ever managed at his most painfully awake and sober. 

"Course I do. You don't know the way. You'd probably wind up at Coney Island."

"So draw me a map. Just like the old days."

"Old days? Ha." And then, because it was nothing like the old days, he crawled under the sheets and said, "You could stay if you want. The bed's big enough."

Dick didn't say anything, and Nix couldn't bring himself to look at him, so he picked at a loose thread in the blanket instead. "If I have another of those dreams you can just kick me off the bed. It would save us both a lot of trouble."

It was a weak excuse, and he knew it. They'd slept in the same foxhole before but sharing a hole in the ground in the middle of a war was very different from sharing a bed during peacetime. And yet Dick hadn't said no yet, and when Nix sneaked a glance it actually seemed like Dick was thinking it over. After a moment he went around the foot of the bed and climbed in on the other side, and Nix felt like he could breathe again.

"Does that usually happen?" Dick said once he was settled. The bed really was big enough, so big that they didn't touch at all. Nix knew that shouldn't disappoint him as much as it did. "More than one of those dreams a night?"

"Not often. A couple of times." Nix turned to look at Dick's profile, outlined by the light of the streetlamps through the window. "Usually I'll have a drink, try to settle my nerves." Or knock himself unconscious, whichever came first. 

"You didn't do that tonight."

"No. Not tonight." Nix sighed and went back to staring at the ceiling. He'd always hated that light fixture. "Been trying to cut back."

He hadn't planned on telling Dick, because there was nothing much to tell. So what if he wasn't drinking as much as he used to; he was still drinking, and he knew he couldn't give it up completely. Not yet, anyway, and perhaps never. The tremors and cold sweats when he'd tried to give it up cold turkey back in October had convinced him of that much, and only sent him back to the bottle twice as hard. 

But then he'd tried again, a different approach, looking at it in the clear light of day like it was a tricky operation he had to sort out and coordinate. When he thought about it like that he could almost pretend it was a problem of supply and demand, only this time he was the one cutting the supply line on himself, gradually, day by day and week by week. And this time, so far, it actually seemed to be working. 

He didn't know how long he'd manage to keep it up and he didn't want to draw attention to it, make it something bigger than it was, because that would only make failure more conspicuous. He figured either Dick would notice that Nix wasn't ordering as many drinks at dinner or wasn't reaching for his flask as often as he used to, or he wouldn't. 

Except, he should have trusted Dick to notice because when he rolled over now to face Nix, he didn't look surprised at all. "Yeah?"

It was either the ugly light fixture or Dick's face, and Nix knew which one he'd rather look at. Even if Dick wasn't smiling but looked like he wanted to, eyes all crinkled at the corners as if Nix had done something that pleased him. Nix shrugged, going for nonchalance but probably just looking as awkward as he felt. "Yeah, well. Wouldn't want to get through Goering's collection too quickly. There's no chance of restocking that."

"Of course," Dick agreed easily, and Nix didn't appreciate the knowing glint in his eyes at all. He watched Nix for another moment before he finally smiled. "Good for you, Lew."

Only Dick could make those words sound heartfelt and not sarcastic. "Yeah, okay. Don't get all… _you_ about it."

Dick chuckled and patted Nix on the chest. "Get some sleep."

He left his hand there, long fingers curling easily around Nix's ribcage like they belonged. Nix kept waiting for him to pull away, and his heart picked up speed beneath the warm weight of Dick's palm when he didn't. Dick's eyes were closed and his breathing was even, but Nix didn't think he'd fallen asleep yet. Maybe he didn’t even notice what he'd done. Maybe this would be enough to convince Nix's brain that Dick was right here beside him, and not on a plane where he'd never belonged, and he wouldn't have that dream again.

Tentatively Nix lay his hand atop Dick's and closed his eyes, waiting for the moment Dick pulled away. If he did, it wasn't until long after Nix had fallen asleep.

* * *

Nix woke to an empty bed, the sunlight just beginning to reach through the gap in the curtains and creep across the floor. Dick was long gone and his pillow was cold, but Nix could hear him puttering around in the kitchen and he thought, _I could get used to this_. 

And that was a very dangerous thought.

* * *

Somewhere between OCS and Toccoa, Nix realized that he'd resigned himself to a life of listening to Dick's ideas, concluding that they were absolutely nuts, and then going along with them anyway. That was how he'd ended up following Dick to the paratroops, and he would have followed him to Japan if that transfer Dick had wanted so badly had actually gone through. Hell, if Dick had decided to make a career in the army Nix probably would've gone along with that too. So it was no surprise that there he was, half a world away and on the wrong side of noon, trailing Dick through the galleries of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Nix had led the way to the museum as promised, his distaste for the early hour receding with every step thanks to the presence of Dick walking alongside him, near enough on the crowded sidewalks to brush elbows every so often. They stuck close together inside the museum too, the better for Nix to keep up a running commentary on the paintings and statues – some actual facts he remembered from previous visits, but most of them made up on the spot just to amuse Dick.

"I mean, if you've seen one cranky man in a ruff you've seen them all," he said as they walked through a room full of stern-faced portraits. "Doesn't the one in the corner remind you of someone?" 

He thought it looked like Colonel Sink but he wanted to hear Dick say it. He glanced over at him, awaiting his answer, only to find Dick looking back at him. If Nix had to describe Dick's expression he would have said he looked pensive, but that wasn't quite right and he wasn't sure why. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Dick said. "I guess I was just thinking that I never pictured visiting you in New York to be like this."

And that made Nix blink, because he'd pictured Dick visiting him countless times, even when they were still in Europe and living in each other's pockets. He just hadn't imagined that Dick was thinking about it too. "What'd you picture?"

Dick shrugged. "Less museums and more nightclubs, I guess. Parties and dancing. That sort of thing."

He looked miserable enough at the thought that Nix couldn't help laughing. "Some friend I'd be, dragging you to all the places you hate."

"Not much different than my dragging you here."

"Hey, I never said I hated art," he protested. "Besides, when have I ever needed to be dragged somewhere that you're going to be?" 

And that – that was just too much, and Nix was too sober to play it off as a joke. He was always running his mouth around Dick and risking being too honest, probably because Dick was the most honest person he'd ever met. Someday, Nix knew, it was going to get him into trouble. He sighed. "I need a smoke."

There was a security guard giving him the stink eye, so Nix turned on his heel and headed outside. He didn't expect Dick to follow him but he did, taking a seat beside Nix on the steps and watching him in that inscrutable way again, which was more than a little unnerving. Nix had always been good at deciphering Dick Winters, but a few months apart and it seemed he couldn't even manage that anymore. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag that exhaled on another sigh.

"Look, Dick. I don't know if you think your visit is keeping me from all sorts of exciting plans but the truth is, I've been doing a whole lot of nothing since I came home. The old man said he expects to see me at work after New Year's, and I've just been biding my time until then. When I first got back I tried going out with the old crowd a few times – the ones that didn't side with Kathy, anyway – but it wasn't the same. They weren't the same." _They weren't you._

If someone had told Nix before the war that there would come a time when he'd spend a night on the town wishing he were back in a drafty attic billet shooting the shit with a confirmed teetotaler, he never would have believed it. He took another drag on his cigarette and watched the smoke until it disappeared over Fifth Avenue. "Or maybe I'm not the same. I don't know."

Beside him, Dick was quiet. Nix wasn't sure how much he could relate to anyway. Dick might have been in a hurry to leave Pennsylvania the other day, but Nix had no doubt that he'd find his way back, and probably sooner rather than later. Nix, on the other hand, didn't have much of anywhere to find his way back to. Or anyone, except for the man sitting beside him, and Nix knew he couldn't follow him forever. Even if it was proving to be a tough habit to break.

"Ever hear from Kathy?"

"I hear from her lawyer." Nix tapped the ash from his cigarette. "Visited her and the kid around Thanksgiving."

"How'd that go?"

"As expected. She had nothing to say to me, the kid had no idea who the hell I was and had nothing to say to me either. Pretty sure the dog was the only one happy to see me." 

He finished his cigarette in silence, crushing the butt under his toes with more force than necessary, and when he looked up again, Dick was watching him.

"Over there, I thought about home a lot," he said. "But I guess I never really thought about what it'd be like once we got back."

"I did," Nix said. "Why do you think I was willing to go to Japan with you?" As if that had been the only reason. As if that had even been the main reason.

Dick laughed, soft and surprised-sounding, and Nix's heart did a flip. "Well, I know it's not Tokyo, but I hear they've got some Japanese art inside."

"Is this your way of saying you want to go back in?" Dick was already standing up beside him, so that was enough of an answer. Nix hauled himself to his feet. "All right. I'm still waiting for you to tell me who you think that portrait looks like."

Dick was still smiling when he reached over to squeeze Nix's shoulder like he had the night before. He gave it a little shake before turning away, walking briskly back up the steps to the doors. 

Nix took the steps two at a time to catch up to him. He couldn't follow Dick around forever, but today he could, at least.

* * *

The nightmares made sense to Nix, in their own miserable way. He understood them. What he didn't understand were the restless nights, when his thoughts were too loud and sleep wouldn't come easily, or even at all. There was a time not so long ago when he'd been able to fall asleep quickly and stay asleep, blasts of exploding artillery be damned. There also was a time when he'd drink enough to pass out cold, but he hadn't done that every night, or even most nights, and there was no explanation why he'd managed to sleep better in a freezing foxhole than he did in a warm, soft bed.

On nights like those he'd get up and have a drink and a smoke, maybe listen to a record until his thoughts grew quieter and his mind felt less like it was going to rattle itself out of his head. On those nights, though, he didn't find Dick in his living room, looking just as relentlessly awake as he was.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he said, dropping onto the sofa beside him. 

It was a small, overstuffed thing, more of a decoration than a piece of furniture that could seat two grown men comfortably, so he landed practically in Dick's lap, but Dick didn't seem to notice or mind. "Sorry, Nix. Didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." Dick had opened the curtains and beyond the glare of the streetlights outside the windows Central Park was a swath of darkness peeling off into the distance. A guy could almost pretend he wasn't in the city at all, if he ignored the lights and the occasional car horn blaring. Nix wondered if Dick was pretending exactly that, and then decided that he really didn't want to know. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just couldn't sleep." 

"That seems to be going around." Nix stretched out his legs and tried to ignore the cushion that was digging into his side. "You know what your problem is."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"You're missing your bedtime stories. All those field manuals. You ought to dig them up; they'll knock you right out."

Dick narrowed his eyes, but his mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh. "You know, I've thought about it a few times," he admitted, and that just made _Nix_ laugh.

But then the lightness in Dick's expression faded. "I was thinking about that just now, actually."

"Field manuals?"

"No, just, being over there. What I was doing this time last year. You ever think about it, Nix?"

"Not if I can help it." But then, because Dick deserved honesty: "Can't always help it, though."

"Yeah." It sounded more like a sigh than a word. "Sometimes I think about what might've happened if I'd done things differently."

"How you could've saved everyone, you mean," Nix said, because he had a sneaking suspicion about what Dick was thinking. Dick's silence only confirmed it, and Nix sighed. He knew down to his bones that there was no one on this earth that could've done a better job under the same circumstances than Dick had, but he also knew that Dick wouldn't want to hear that. "Dick, if anyone could've done it, it would've been you. I mean that. Problem is, it's just not possible. Not for anyone."

"I know," Dick said quietly. "Doesn't mean I don't think about it, though."

"I know," Nix said, because he did. He also knew he had to leave Dick to his thoughts for a bit, but not for too long or he'd get lost in them. It was a delicate balance, but one Nix had perfected over the years. If someone asked Nix to draw up a list of his finest accomplishments during his time in the U.S. Army, distracting Dick from everything that weighed on his mind probably would've made up half of it.

"Don't go anywhere," he said, heading into the kitchen once he'd figured Dick had enough time for quiet contemplation. He came back a moment later with two ice cream cups and a couple of spoons and Dick's whole face lit up. Nix knew that shouldn't make him feel as pleased as it did, but Nix didn't think he'd ever looked at another person and wanted nothing more than to keep a smile on their face before he'd met Dick.

"Where'd these come from?"

"The store," Nix said, grinning as Dick rolled his eyes. There wasn't more than a few spoonfuls of vanilla ice cream in each cup, and it wasn't the best ice cream he'd ever had, but it was worth it to see the smile on Dick's face. "There's more in the freezer whenever you want them."

"Think we're the only people eating ice cream in the middle of winter?" Dick asked. Not that he seemed worried about it, with the way he was digging in. Nix shook his head.

"Nah, see, that's the best thing about New York. There's always somebody else doing something more nuts than you are." 

Dick nodded, considering. "No wonder you like it here," he said, giving him a sidelong look. Nix snorted.

"Well, you know what they say. It takes one to know one." And even though Nix came close to losing the remainder of his ice cream cup to Dick's answering laugh and sharp elbow, he wouldn't have really minded if he had. He knew he couldn't banish those thoughts from Dick's mind forever, but he could make them recede a little, however temporarily, and he'd done just that.

As comfortable as it was to sit there quietly with Dick, Nix knew it wouldn't last forever, and he wasn't surprised when Dick started making noises about trying to get some sleep. They shuffled down the hall together but when they got to the guest bedroom Dick hesitated at the door, suddenly looking uncertain.

Nix thought about Dick going back in there, alone, and sitting up for the rest of the night, thinking about all the dead Easy men, or maybe all the ones that had died in the whole battalion under his command. He had a feeling that if he let Dick go in there alone he'd be able to find him in the living room again within the hour, staring out the window at nothing once more. For nearly four years Nix had made it his own personal mission to make Dick's road easier to bear, and that wasn't going to stop just because they'd made it back home.

"Come on," he said gently. Dick looked over at him, startled. "Come on," Nix said again, jerking his head in the direction of his own room and this time, Dick followed him the rest of the way down the hall.

Dick curled up under the blankets without saying anything, and Nix thought that would be that as he crawled in after him. But just when he thought Dick had fallen asleep he turned over to face him. "I'm glad you're here, Nix."

"I'm glad I'm here too," he replied. "Considering it's my bed."

That earned him a warm smile, and Nix was glad they were lying farther apart tonight, because whenever Dick looked at him like that he always felt like he was half a second away from doing something truly stupid, like kissing him. 

"I missed you, you know," he said, because talking was safer right now. Looking away was safer too, so he did that as well. "Thought about inviting you out here a bunch of times, but."

"But what?"

"Didn't want to bother you, I guess."

"Nix, you're not a bother." When Nix didn't answer, Dick propped himself up on his elbow and leaned toward him, close enough that Nix couldn't avoid turning back to face him without it getting awkward. "You're never a bother. There are a lot of things about the past few years that I'd like to leave behind, but you're not one of them. You know that, right?"

Dick was looking at him so urgently, like he needed Nix to believe this one thing more than anything else in the world. Nix swallowed heavily. "Yeah, okay, Dick. I know."

"Good." Dick flopped back onto the pillow and closed his eyes, and Nix made himself look away, because he still felt like he'd do something stupid if he had to look at Dick any longer.

"Besides, who else would buy me ice cream?"

Nix swatted at him with his pillow, catching him on the shoulder even as Dick rolled away laughing, but he couldn't keep a smile off his face as he listened to Dick's quiet laughter fade and his breaths even out in sleep. 

With a sigh Nix rolled over and closed his eyes, trying to drift off but feeling awake enough that he didn't expect sleep to come at all that night. It was a surprise when he opened his eyes again and found that he had slept, at least for a little while. The room was as dark as it had been before, so Nix knew he couldn't have been sleeping for very long, and a squint at his alarm clock showed that two hours had passed. 

The real surprise, though, was waking up to Dick's arm slung around his waist.

They'd both drifted closer to each other at some point during the night and Dick had curled up behind him, his knees tucked behind Nix's and his face pressed against the back of Nix's neck. As soon as he noticed it Nix went still, but Dick was still fast asleep, his limbs heavy and his breathing even. Nix allowed himself a long moment to memorize how this felt, the way Dick's arm wrapped around him and the way his steady breaths ruffled Nix's hair, before he began the slow and careful process of untangling himself from Dick's grasp. It was all Nix had ever wanted but knowing it would never happen again – knowing it never would have happened, if Dick were awake – made it easier to pull away.

But as soon as he got free Dick stirred, his arm reaching across the now-empty space beside him as if chasing after Nix's warmth. "Hey, it's early," Nix whispered, twisting around to face him. He reached out a hand to cup Dick's cheek before he could think better of it, and Dick immediately went still. There was stubble on his face, a sight that never saw the light of day, and Nix ran his thumb lightly over Dick's cheekbone a couple of times, just for the novelty of it. "Go back to sleep." 

Dick didn't stir again, and Nix really needed to move his hand. He did with a sigh, sliding over a little more as he did. Dick was asleep again, and Nix really should take his own advice. He flopped onto his stomach and went back to sleep.

* * *

When Nix woke again it was to an empty bed, and while the sky was lighter there was no sunlight trickling in between the curtains. Dick's side of the bed was cold, and Nix could hear him puttering around in the kitchen, and he pushed himself out of the bed before he could think about getting used to it.

In the shower he found himself thinking of Dick sitting by the window the night before, staring out at the darkness of Central Park at midnight, and the beginnings of a plan for the morning began to piece itself together in his mind. It was supposed to snow again today, he suddenly recalled; yesterday's paper had forecast snow around midday, not much, just enough to be a pain in the ass and snarl traffic around the city, but they could easily walk to the destination he had in mind. Dick would probably prefer walking to sitting in a taxi, anyway.

He was getting dressed when he thought he smelled bacon, and a trip to the kitchen confirmed it. There was bacon cooling in a dish on the counter, some pieces slightly singed but still edible, alongside a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread, none of which had been there the day before. The kitchen, as they'd discovered during a brief poke around when they first arrived, seemed to serve more as his mother's showcase for the latest gleaming appliances than as a place to cook. The pantry and fridge had been almost entirely empty, except for the ice cream Nix had smuggled in, and yesterday morning he and Dick had talked half-heartedly of buying some groceries before they headed to a diner for breakfast. "Where'd all this come from?" 

"The store," Dick said, looking smug as he sidled up to him, and Nix knew he deserved that. 

He couldn't help gazing around like he didn't recognize the place. There was coffee brewing too; he hadn't even realized there _was_ a coffee pot sitting on the counter the day before. "Don't tell me you've got Zielinski hiding around here somewhere."

Dick chuckled. "Afraid not. Just figured I owed you a bacon sandwich from… what, a year ago?"

"Over a year," Nix replied. "Though I wouldn't say no to some eggs, too. Hey, there's this place I wanted to bring you today. You want to head out after breakfast? It's supposed to snow some more later, it'd be good to get an early start." 

"All right, Nix." Dick's voice was soft and when Nix glanced over at him, his expression was even softer. He looked almost exactly like he had that day at the lake when Nix asked him to come to New Jersey. Quietly pleased, sure, but thoughtful and considering, like he was searching for something specific in Nix's face. 

Whatever it was, he must have found it, because Dick suddenly nodded as if he'd come to a decision and reached out, laying his hand on Nix's cheek. His thumb traced the same path across his cheekbone that Nix's had during the night, slowly, wonderingly, like he almost couldn't believe he was doing it. Nix couldn't believe it either, and his breath hitched. "Dick?"

"I didn't dream this, did I?" Dick said. They were standing so very close, and he was still touching Nix's face.

"No," Nix whispered. "You didn't."

Dick smiled, so bright that Nix's heart would have skipped a beat if it weren't already racing, and leaned down to kiss him.

Nix's breath hitched again. Dick's lips were warmer and softer than Nix ever had imagined. His hand slid farther back, fingers burying themselves in Nix's still-damp hair and Nix never wanted this to end. He parted his lips and the first touch of Dick's tongue made him clutch at Dick's waist, his shoulder, whatever he could find, and kiss him back until they'd both run out of breath.

"Was that okay?" Dick asked when they finally had to pull apart. There was a flush creeping across his face and he looked a little unsure now, as if Nix hadn't been a very enthusiastic participant. 

"Was it–?" Nix shook his head, laughing, and leaned in for another kiss, because someone had to show Dick just how okay it was.

* * *

"So what's this place you wanted to show me?" Dick said as Nix led the way through the streets. They hadn't gotten the early start Nix had anticipated, but the promised snowfall seemed as though it were taking longer to arrive than the forecast had predicted and, given the cause of their delay, Nix didn't think either one of them minded that they might get caught in it. If anything, it would give them an excuse to go back to the apartment and stay in for the rest of the day, but Nix figured he'd save that suggestion for later.

"We're almost there," was all that he said. They hadn't gone this deep into the west side yet, away from the crowds and tourists and more popular destinations, and he watched as Dick looked around curiously, taking in the brownstones, the skinny winter trees. The street they'd turned down was quiet, as if most people were already bundled up indoors awaiting the storm, and Nix wished he could reach out and take Dick's hand. "It's just across the street."

"Another park?" Dick said after they'd crossed Riverside Drive and were looking down at the park and the river beyond. He said it like it was some sort of great find, like Nix had discovered some new place on a map just for him, and Nix had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing Dick and kissing him. 

"Yeah, Riverside," he said, and then he let Dick lead the way, meandering along the path for the next couple of blocks. The park went on for another eighty blocks or so north, and he figured the impending snowstorm would keep Dick from wanting to walk through it all today, more than the distance itself. At least, he hoped it would. "Wish you could see it in the spring or summer when everything's green, but it's not so bad now."

Dick gave him a sidelong look, the kind that was accompanied by one of his warm half-smiles that Nix never could quite believe was directed at him, and led the way over to a bench that faced the Hudson. They'd passed only a few people along the way, hunched against the icy wind coming from the river, but the dreary weather meant they had the park almost entirely to themselves. It let them sit a little closer than they probably should, so Nix didn't mind. If anything, people would probably assume they were just huddling for warmth if they looked too closely, and one of Nix's favorite things about New Yorkers was they tended not to look too hard at things that didn't concern them.

"So that's New Jersey," Dick said, staring across the river intently, like he was trying to memorize it, or compare it to something in his memory. Nix pictured him back home in Lancaster, sneaking glances at a map and the train timetable and maybe even a guidebook in between courses of his Christmas dinner.

"Picturesque enough for you?" Nix thought he'd said it lightly enough, but when Dick turned to him it felt like he could see right through him, through all the layers of doubt and despair until he knew exactly just how much Nix had wondered about it, and worried.

"I told you I'd think about it, Lew," he said gently, and that was true enough. "And I have been thinking about it. I just haven't made a decision, for a couple of reasons. One is I still haven't been discharged from the army, but I'm expecting that to happen next month. Or so they've led me to believe."

"Well, it's about time," Nix said. "What's the other reason?"

"I wasn't exactly sure what you were offering. Just the job, or..." 

"A life?"

"Well, yeah." Dick shrugged, coloring slightly. "I couldn't be sure, but the longer I thought about it the more it seemed like you were asking me about more than just a job that day."

"I think you know the answer to that now," Nix said carefully. Even after everything that had happened, he still didn't want to get his hopes up. "But Dick, that day I really was just offering you a job, mostly because I didn't think there was a chance in hell that you'd ever go for anything more than that. And it can still be just a job offer, you know. It doesn't have to be everything if you don't want it to be."

But Dick didn't even hesitate. "What if I do want everything?" he replied, and Nix's heart soared so high he couldn't speak. 

When Dick looked at him he seemed to understand. "Here, take this," he said, taking off his right glove and tossing it to Nix. With his free hand he reached for Nix's left and tucked both into the pocket of his heavy overcoat. They were sitting close enough that someone would have to look at them very intently in order to notice, and there was no one around anyway. Dick's fingers were warm from the glove and he ran his thumb along the back of Nix's chilly hand, and that gesture, as much as the possibility of _everything_ , warmed Nix right up.

"You know why I didn't want to go to Chicago the other day, when you asked?" Dick said. "I figured it'd be good to have that one thing between us to keep for the future, so I'd always have at least one excuse to see you again."

The fact that _Dick_ thought _he'd_ need to find excuses to see Nix again was almost laughable. "Oh, you're not getting rid of me that easily," he said, squeezing Dick's hand. "How do you feel about Chicago in the summer? I think your new boss would let you have a couple weeks off."

He waited for Dick to say _Maybe_ or _We'll see_. But Dick smiled and said, "Sounds good, with the right company." And he squeezed Nix's hand back.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Let's Start the New Year Right [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463811) by [aethel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aethel/pseuds/aethel)




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